


Nothing Gold Can Stay

by SonjaJade



Category: Black Lagoon
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Partial Nudity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: They can't be together in the light, shouldn't be together in the dark, but by the gold light of the streetlamp, everything is perfect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 'Sladkaya' means 'honey' in Russian.

A gold colored streetlamp brightens the humid darkness surrounding them, not that they need any light to do what they’re doing, though the effect on his Kapitan’s hair is beautiful. He feels the residue of her lipstick on his lips and cheek. He feels her hands jerking at his belt and fly. He doesn’t stop her.

He imagines they’re somewhere else, somewhere peaceful and serene, somewhere that doesn’t require them to stay at yellow alert at all times. His lips ghost across her scars and his illusions are broken, but it doesn’t ruin the reality of what’s about to happen, thankfully.

His hands quickly unbutton her jacket and blouse, pushing both open. Her breasts and his palms are separated by a thin layer of satin and lace, and Balalaika breathes hotly against his neck as he raises her nipples to taut peaks.

Her nails drag down his stomach before she reaches through the hair guarding his dick. He rumbles an approval before kissing her neck, his hips reactively flexing into her grip.

“The desk or the chair?” she asks quietly, wanting to know if he wants her to lie back on her cluttered workstation or kneel in one of the leather chairs around the room.

“Desk,” he grunts, pulling her jacket and shirt off her arms and flinging them. He quickly loses his own jacket and leaves his turtleneck on, though he does pull it up to bare his own scarred abdomen.  She clears a place to lay, then hurriedly pulls her skirt up past her hips and rips the crotch out of her pantyhose.  Before lying back, she unhooks and throws her bra, and his lips immediately latch on to one of her perfect tits.

Her whimper is barely there.  There are eyes and ears everywhere in this town, and she does her best to keep their secret safe, even when he wishes she would howl her pleasure across the whole floor, let their unit know who it is that’s making her make those sounds. But it’s enough when her painted nails sink into his hair and hold him firmly to her chest, when she whispers his name and not his former rank; when she arches herself into his mouth and she sighs.

His length feels swollen and tight.  Balalaika pulled his cock from his slacks so he’d have plenty of room to grow, but his need to be inside her is nearing a critical point. However, his loyalty and devotion to her will come first. It always has and tonight will be no different.  When Boris pauses his suckling, he runs two fingers into his mouth. He then switches sides and brings his wet fingers to the hole in her nylons, parting her damp lips and sliding smoothly inside of her, his thumb resting and twisting on her most sensitive place.

Her scars flex and shiver under the streetlight pouring through the dirty window, her damaged skin more beautiful than she knows as she rides his fingers and begins to pant as quietly as she can manage. Boris dips his head and takes her other nipple in his mouth, rubbing her there similarly to how he’s rubbing her down below.

She curses in beautiful, sweet Russian, in a voice barely audible. She trembles as he works her up, eyes closed and mouth open. Sweat begins to bead at her hairline, sparkling in the yellow light from outside. All at once, she takes a big breath, almost a gasp. One hand forces his face deep into her breast and the other grips his shoulder hard enough to bruise. Balalaika climaxes around his fingers and shakes with the force of it. He hums softly around her nipple, encouraging her to wring every moment of pleasure from his touch. The lives they lead- they’re not afforded much pleasure. If he can make her feel incredible like this, even for just a short time, he would do his duty again and again, happily.

Her body seems to lose the tension from before they began, and when he at last raises his head to gaze at her, she looks relaxed and refreshed.  Her eyes say everything, and he knows she’s still wanting to return the favor.

“Good?” he murmurs quietly in the dark.

She hums, smirking. “Very.” She kicks her pumps off and puts her feet up on the edge of the desk. “More?”

Instead of answering her, he pushes his trousers down a few inches before gripping his cock and giving himself two or three strokes, then glides gently into her body.  Her pantyhose feels weird against his thighs, but it’s a sensation he associates with her. He sets a slow, deep pace, leaning over her and planting his hands on either side of her waist. She regards him with lidded eyes and gritted teeth, her hands holding her breasts as he moves within her.

“More,” he finally answers. “You want it inside?” he asks, though her answer has always been the same.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she husks, one hand slipping down to toy with her little nubbin as his pace quickens.

He wraps her legs around him and he tugs her as close to the edge as he can without hurting her back. His hands hold her  firmly as he pumps into her, and he thanks God that she finally decided to let him have her all those months ago. He’d been in love with her since Afghanistan, but never overstepping the boundaries of their professional relationship. He figured it was far better for him to be by her side as second in command rather than be shot and thought of as a lusting pervert. What he hadn’t been expecting was her mutual attraction to him. After that, and several drunken confessions heard by either one or the other, he gave her a sober confession, and she invited him to her office to personally accept it.

“Right there,” she cries, her voice breathy and desperate.  He can feel her walls bearing down on him, clenching him tighter inside her gorgeous body. Her fingers work furiously at her clit, and one of his hands come to her chest, squeezing her breast and pinching her nipple.

“Come on,” he quietly urges. “Come for me, _sladkaya_.”

She nearly shrieks, swallows it before it escapes her beautiful mouth, then ripples around his cock. Her entire body quakes with her release, and he fucks her as hard and fast as he can, bending down and capturing her lips in a kiss of victory.

Her orgasm fades and she wraps her arms around his back as he drives into her. She begs him to come inside her, begs him to never leave her side, begs him to make her come again. Boris’ head is swimming with emotion for her as he chases his end, and just before he fills her up, she comes apart one more. The sacred exchange of fluid inside her holiest of places means nothing- she’s been sterile since the war ended. But it doesn’t stop her from thanking him for his liquid gift in a hushed, grateful voice.

Balalaika holds him tightly to her, her arms and legs caging him in as he gulps for breath.  He finally gives in and lets his full weight down on her.  She doesn’t let him go.

“Stay,” she whispers.  “I like you inside me.”

He loves that he can fuck her right into an entirely different personality.  “I like being inside you,” he answers, his tone light.  He kisses her scarred cheek as she squeezes his length inside of her.  He hums and rests his head on her shoulder. “Need to do this in a bed sometime.”

She hums her agreement and runs her fingers through his hair. He wishes he could fall asleep sometime with her, like this.  Well, preferably completely naked and in a bed, but still buried inside her and her clinging to him like a postage stamp. His eyes close and he presses a kiss to her pulse while his daydreams run wild.

But eventually, the ache in his back gets too much to ignore. He slowly pushes up from her and brushes her bangs away from her face. “Thank you, you were amazing as always.”

“You as well, Sergeant.” She cups his face, then sits up and kisses him deeply.  “Same time next week?” she asks as he reluctantly pulls out of her.

“Whenever you want,” he comments as he helps her to her feet.  “I’m always at your beck and call, Kapitan, for anything.”

She hands him a handkerchief to wipe off on, then he tucks back into his pants and gathers their clothes from the floor.  He fastens her bra before slipping back into his sport coat, and by the time she’s fully dressed, he’s got a cigar ready for her. Balalaika kisses him again before lighting up, then flips her desk lamp on and wipes his face clean of her lipstick on a different handkerchief.

“I want you to check on that shipment from Jakarta. It should have been here already and I’m concerned that one of our little rebel friends from Cambodia has tried to sneak away with it.” She grins at him. “I don’t want to find out if they can fuck me as well as you can.”

Boris shakes his head. “At least when I do it, it’s enjoyable.” Balalaika nods in agreement as she blows smoke toward the ceiling. “I’ll get on it right away.”

And like that, it's business as usual all over again, until she tugs him back into the dark a few days later.


End file.
